


Black Coffee

by landsliide



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, bechloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5803558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landsliide/pseuds/landsliide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beca meets Chloe in a sequence of awkward and embarassing situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Chloe stumbles out of her door, tugging on her denim jacket as she goes.

Her hair is kind of a mess and the shoes that she hurriedly stuffed her feet into (probably chipping the newly painted on pink nail polish adorning her toes) most likely don't match her outfit, like, at all. She's pretty sure she's got pastel pink lipstick on her teeth as well. Did she even remember to brush her teeth?

She curses her faulty alarm clock for letting her lie in ridiculously late on a perfectly good Sunday. She could of gone for a gentle jog this morning. Maybe even gone to the gym.

Her eyes flicker to her watch for the third time in five minutes. 1:15. 'Crap', she hisses to herself. The panicked mess of a girl was supposed to be meeting up with her bestie right now. She tugs her door closed behind her, slamming it harder than necessary in frustration.

The sun is sweltering, beating down on the top of her head, making her even sweatier than necessary in her already flustered state. The neighbourhood seems picturesque and perfectly in place, birds chirping, an open market with fresh fruits, balconies with flower boxes- everything except for the ginger hurriedly searching for a cab. She throws open the back door when she finally finds one, making sure it's empty first of course- she'll never be _that person._  She slides into the plush, velvety back seat.

"Twenty-seven Albert Road please," the red head calls to the driver. The tiny brunette whips around. She looks extremely startled, her dark blue, thickly lined eyes widening.

"Um, excuse me?" she questions, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Oh, do you not know where it is? Do you need me to give you directions?" The woman's head tilts slightly, fiery red curls tickling her shoulder.

"I know where it is," she states. "But do you always jump into strangers cars demanding they drive you places?" She looks slightly amused, one eyebrow raised. Chloe's face screws up in confusion. Stranger's car? What did she mean? But then she begins noticing things, like the drivers ipod plugged in playing some remix of a Taylor Swift song and the fact there's no meter and-

"Wait," starts Chloe. "This is a cab. This is a cab right?" Her voice takes on a tone of desperation and shame as she buries her face in her hands. "Oh my God this totally isn't a cab at all is it?"

"Afraid not, Red," the stranger confirms, biting back a laugh at the flustered girl. "Just a yellow car."

"Why would you buy a yellow car?" she questions, face flushing ruby red as she gazes up at her between the gaps in her fingers. The brunette smirks at her.

She's attractive in an unconventional way, long, curly locks framing an angular face. Her eyes are strikingly blue, the kind of blue you'd expect to find in the depths of the ocean and God, Chloe wants to dive into them. Her small ears are covered in an assortment of weird piercings and stretchers and the ends are tinged with pink. The stranger tucks a stray strand of hair behind them with slender fingers. Her nails are painted an opal black, the ends chipped as if she's been biting them.

"It's just a rental actually, my car is at the garage being fixed," she informs her. "And I don't know why I'm telling you this." She cocks her head. Chloe grins widely at the strangely charming stranger.

"I'm sorry I accidentally tried to hitchhike in your car," Chloe apologises sheepishly, her blush fading.

"Don't worry about it dude. I've been meaning to tick 'pick up a hitchhiker' off my bucket list for a while now anyway, you've done me a favour" she deadpans. Chloe can't tell if she's being serious or not. She's normally good at reading people. She can tell when Aubrey is about to have An Episode from the strained lilt her voice takes on and she knows her brother is about to crash from exhaustion when he continually rubs his left eyebrow. But this stranger is a closed book if Chloe's ever seen one. 

"Well, you're welcome then." They spend a moment and a half grinning at each other in a daze. The calm is broken when once again Chloe's eyeline gravitates to her watch and she let's out a long string of obscenities.

"Running late?" the girl in the front seat asks.

"Always. I'm supposed to be meeting my friend for coffee and she's kind of... enthusiastic about punctuality," Chloe explains, struggling to find the right words.

"Oh, you mean she's an uptight bitch," she corrects her.

"I guess you could say that. Or, if you're a nice person, you could say she's enthusiastic about punctuality. Which she is."

"Well to win my award as nice person of the year," she shoots Chloe a pointed glare in the rear view mirror. "How about I drop you off even thought I'm definitely not a taxi."

"For real?" Chloe enquired in disbelief.

"Got nothing better to do."

"Thank you," Chloe gratefully sighs. Relief surges through her bones. The girl simply nods in response, pulling away from the curb.

"The Starbucks on Albert Road?"

"Mmhm," the Chloe hums. She should of been there almost ten minutes ago. It's probably best that she silently prepares herself for the earful she's going to get from her best friend.

Chloe takes a break from agonizing over Aubrey's inevitable reaction to take in her situation. Chloe would never normally accept a car ride from a stranger. I mean, who does stuff like that? But the brunette's calming presence caught Chloe off-guard and now, here she is, settled into the backseat of an obnoxiously yellow car, completely trusting this brunette not to murder her.

That's just life, she guesses. 

Before she knows it the stranger is swerving into a space next to the coffee house, staring intently at Chloe through the rear view mirror. She tears her gaze away to focus on pale hands drumming at the steering wheel when Chloe catches her eye, a slight blush tinting both their cheeks.

"You have reached your destination," she states, mimicking a SatNav voice playfully.

"Thank you so much!" the ginger exclaims as she clambers out of the car. "I really can't thank you enough." The brunette just salutes with a smirk and peels away from the curb. 

It's not till she's completely gone that Chloe realises she didn't even get her name.


	2. Chapter Two

Chloe is definitely more of an early bird than a night owl. There's nothing she loves more than witnessing the sunrise, orange lava spilling across the horizon and cracking opens clouds. She lives for it. Early morning jogs with breathing clouding in front if face, frying pancakes, the shocking cold of hardware floors beneath her feet. She loves it all - she's definitely an early bird. 

The person throwing rocks at her window obviously isn't.

The ginger dozily wipes the sleep out of her eyes, yawning as she reluctantly rolls out of bed. '1:44' her alarm clock blinks from her bedside table.

'Too late for getting out of bed,' Chloe thinks bitterly. 'Or maybe too early.'

Groaning with the weight of exhaustion, she pulls an oversized, plain black t shirt over her head, covering her underwear modestly. She can't be bothered to put pants on too. Pants are for losers and people who can function at 2am. 

Chloe slings open the window haphazardly and is immediately struck in the face with a small pebble. It bounces off her forehead with a delicate thud and rattles to the ground.

"Hey!" she cries. "What's your problem?"

Below stands a tiny brunette brandishing a square speaker above her head. 'Titanium' tinkles out of the device slipping through Chloe's window and nesting in her brain where it'll probably reside for days. 

"Woah sorry! I was aiming for the window I promise, I didn't mean to hit-" she stops abruptly. Her brows edge closer together, an adorable crinkle forming between them. Her breath is visible in the freezing night air, swirling and clouding around her. "It's you! You're - you're you!"

"I'm me, this is true," Chloe confirms, nodding faux-seriously. "The hitchhiking weirdo." A grin splits her face open as she shuffles from foot to foot. "Why are you playing David Guetta out of a speaker outside my window?"

"I couldn't find a boombox," the brunette explains, as if that answers all of Chloe's questions (it doesn't). "Do you have a brother named Jesse? Or like, a room mate, something like that? A male presence?"

"A male presence? Like... a ghost? Are you ghostbusting?" A roll of eyes and a thick sigh are the only response she gets. 

"Is this 354 Barden Road?"

"353," Chloe corrects her. "354 is next door."

"That explains a lot."

Chloe (still half asleep) hops up onto the window sill, swinging her legs around until they're dangling over the edge of the building, the rough bricks resting under her heels. She has a million questions swarming around in her brain like a cloud of bees, maybe even a million and one. 

"So who's Jesse?" Chloe decides to enquire.

"My friend."

"Just a friend?" The brunette nods.

"I'm trying to make him talk to me again. He made a pass at me and I very much rejected him. Now he won't speak to me and he keeps changing his facebook status to sad Linkin Park lyrics because he thinks he got 'brozoned' or whatever he calls it," she explains.

"He sounds like an asshat," Chloe exclaims. "Personally, it would be an honour to be brozoned by you." A lengthy silence lingers between them. It's not uncomfortable - although when has anything in the last decade made Chloe Beale uncomfortable? She shuffles with a smirk; she can feel the brunette's gaze travelling up her bare legs. They look outrageously pale, drowned in moonlight. The air is still and the silence thickens. Chloe pauses for a moment before speaking again. "I never got your name."

"I don't recall you telling me yours either," she retorts, lips pursed to hide a smile.

"I'm Chloe."

"Nice to meet you Chloe," she greets the ginger as if they haven't already shared an awkward car ride together.

"You have to tell me your name now!" she whines petulantly, before hastily tacking on a, "and it's nice to meet you too."

"Beca."

"Beca," the ginger repeats, trying the name out. It feels foreign in her mouth, sitting like a cherry cough drop on her tongue. "I like that name." Another pause. Another sharp intake of breath. "So tell me about this Jesse guy again."

"Well, um, he's kind of a movie fanatic, hence the speaker," she explains, gesturing to the box in her hand. "You know, like in Say Anything?" Chloe's head bobs in understanding.

"What else?" To be honest, the ginger is just stalling Beca. In a weird way she misses her already, desperately clinging to every moment of the interaction she has left. It seems a little too convenient that they bumped into each other twice completely accidentally. Chloe is a firm believe in fate, along with other pleasantries such as hope, faith and mothman. 

"He's a nice guy, I guess."

"A nice guy? Or a _Nice Guy_?" Chloe presses.

"You're saying the same words. What's the difference? Is there a difference?" Chloe rolls her eyes, jaw dropping open in disbelief and upset at her ignorance. 

"Of course there's a difference Beca! One of them is italicized. Do you know nothing?" 

"I'm not sure what's happening now." Beca's puzzled expression grows and shifts until she seems a little bit concerned of Chloe's safety and, more importantly, her own safety in Chloe's presence. "He's just.... nice. Yeah, he can be a little pushy sometimes," Beca tactfully phrases it. "I think he kind of had a thing for me. Has? Maybe?" Chloe nods slowly.

"So you're trying to woo him with a romantic gesture?" she questions mockingly with a tilt of her brow. Chloe doesn't usually judge a book by its cover but if Beca was a book the cover would probably says 'I'm Not A Fan Of Romantic Gestures' in bold, crimson lettering. 

"No! I'm just trying to get him to talk to me again," she denies defensively, shaking her head hard enough to rattle out a few brain cells. 

"Hmm," Chloe hums thoughtfully. "He doesn't sound like your type of guy anyway." Rhythmically, she taps the heels of her feet against the brick walls of her apartment.

"My type?" she aka incredulously, more of a question than a statement. "And what exactly is my "type"?" She adds air quotes around the word with her fingers melodramatically, almost dropping her cuboid speaker in the process.

"Overly confident red heads who talk to you from their windows at midnight without any pants on," she deadpans, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And Beca simply nods in agreement because, to be honest-

She might be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really hope you like this chapter! I'm always open to criticism :)


	3. Chapter Three

Chloe is very drunk.

She veers in slanting lines across the gritty pavement, struggling to keep her feet firmly on the ground. 'This would be so much easier if I had a hoverboard,' she thinks. 'Or a friend." She frowns at that part. She does have friends - they're just friends who like to sleep at 1:13 on a Tuesday morning instead of wandering around aimlessly with nothing but a phone and a crumpled five dollar note.

Her breath is a ghostly white as it puffs into the inky black night, like the pallor of a sick person. It shifts and shimmers before disappearing completely. 

Chloe huffs childishly. She's had enough of her dumb shoes. They're crushing her dumb toes too much and making her dumb steps wobbly against the dumb pavement like dumb bambi. 

Again, Chloe sighs. She knows bambi isn't dumb. She didn't mean it. Delicately she toes off the opal heels, scooping them up in her hand. 

The ginger's bare feet slap noisily against the pavement. Her hair hangs long and free around her shoulders, almost floating in the gentle breeze. She (unsuccessfully) attempts to straighten her white button down shirt, shifting it around where it sits half untucked from her pencil skirt. 

"Huh," she breathes as she catches sight of her reflection in a car window. "This shirt is about as straight as me." She snorts to herself, thinking that that's probably the wittiest thing she's ever said. Maybe even the wittiest thing _anyone_  has ever said. 

"What the -" she cries. Her bare toes are colliding with something very solid. She grabs hold of whatever it is before it topples over from the whack of her bony knees against it. Stumbling, she backs up to read what she now realises is a metal sign. 

"Tattoo parlour," she reads aloud. A tattoo suddenly seems like a great idea. 'It's fate,' she decides, that led her to the sign and not the alcohol surging through her veins, rendering her even clumsier than usual.

It's open and a bell tinkles lightly as Chloe pushes the thick, wooden door open.

The parlour has an old fashioned vibe to it, huge wooden pillars stretching from floor to ceiling, oak wood floors that feel uninvitingly cold against her toes. She shudders involuntarily. The whole area is unnervingly deserted.

"Hello?" Chloe calls. Nothing. She peers up the stairs. She thinks she can hear the distant echo of music but she's also not sure if that's just the buzzing noise ringing in her ears.

She heads upstairs anyway, the twisting staircase creaking and groaning noisily in disapproval.

The room is dim and dusty, bathed in moonlight that pours in through the giant arched windows. In the centre of the room sits a bench; for, you know, getting tattoos, Chloe guesses. 

Someone stands in the corner of the room, leaning over a desk, scrawling geometric patterns in a thick notepad. An oversized pair of headphones cling to the sides of her head.

"Hello," Chloe repeats. Still nothing. She huffs indignantly, striding across the room before tapping the unaware woman insistently on the shoulder.

"Jesus Christ-" she yelps as she whirls around. "You scared the crap out of me!" She pushes her brown hair out of her comically over-widened eyes. Chloe can practically feel the rapid push and pull of her chest as she gasps for breath, all the wind knocked out of her. 

"Hey! It's you! Beca!" Chloe exclaims, enveloping her in a bone crushing hug. Beca tries not to breathe in the stagnant stench of alcohol that dances on Chloe's breath as her arms dangle limply against her sides. 

"Hey, Chloe," she greets her, smiling slightly as she gently removes her, holding her by the biceps at arms length. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting a tattoo, duh!" the ginger informs Beca, grinning widely. She's barefoot, more than tipsy, her once pristine white shirt is stained and a little smelly but - she's still grinning. 

"I'm not so sure."

"Beca, Beca, Beca, Beca, Beca, Beca, Beca, Beca," Chloe repeats, jigging up and down energetically. The smaller woman holds up her hands in surrender, silently urging Chloe to, like, chill out bro.

"Yeah?"

"Tattoo your name on my ass!" Chloe demands, smacking her five dollar bill into the brunette's hand. Beca gingerly returns it. 

"I don't think that's a good idea Chloe," Beca starts but the ginger is already tugging her skirt down, letting it bunch around her ankles before sliding across the chair on her belly like a penguin.

"Oh my God, Chloe, please pull your skirt back up," Beca begs, covering her eyes with her hand.

"Not until you tattoo your name on my ass," she stubbornly denies, resting her chin in her hands and swinging her legs expectantly.

"How about you come back when you're sober and then we'll discuss tattooing my name on your ass," bargains Beca.

'I'm one-hundred percent sober, I don't know what you're talking about!" she claims with a faux offended gasp. 

"It's more expensive than five dollars."

"I can pay you other ways." Beca's breath hitches and she pushes her hands through her hair in frustration. She's pretty sure this is how every porno in history has ever started and she won't be brought down to that level. 

"Chloe," Beca warns warily. 

"Beca."

Beca lets out a defeated and aggravated sigh at the red head lying across her chair, arguing and dozily swaying like an overexcited toddler.

"You've got one more chance Chloe, please put your pants back on and get up," Beca grumbles.

"Tattoo, tattoo, tattoo!" she chants.

"I warned you," the brunette sighs, striding over with a shake of her head. With every ounce of care she can muster, she drags the hem of the skirt up, yanking it over Chloe's legs where it settles securely on her hips. The zips glides up. If Chloe feels cold and nimble fingers graze her thigh, she doesn't comment. She ignores the lightning that nestles into her very bone marrow at the contact. 

"God, at least buy me dinner first," Chloe scoffs. "Actually, dinner sounds great right now. I'm starving." Her stomach rumbles loudly to punctuate her point perfectly.

"I never offered-"

"Ooo we could get McDonalds!" Chloe interrupts with an overjoyed squeal. Beca sighs in defeat.

"C'mon then Red."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Always open to criticism :)


	4. Chapter Four

"Come on," Chloe encourages, drawing out the words with a sense of urgency. "I want some McChicken McNuggets and McFries and a McHappy McMeal," she drunkenly slurs.

"Calm your tits McWeirdo," Beca smirks, biting the inside of her cheek to hide her laughter as she locks the door to the tattoo parlour before pocketing the key. Chloe pouts adorably. "Let's go get us some food then." The ginger cheers, provoking a smile to emerge on Beca's face which she hastily tries to hide.

Chloe winds an arm around Beca's narrow waist to steady herself, fingertips pressing into her hip bone. Beca throws a protective arm around her when she starts veering dangerously closer to the road, resting her forearm on her bony shoulder. Chloe welcomes it, nuzzling into Beca affectionately.

It's a constant battle to keep Chloe vertical. Beca practically drags her along the path, her bare feet skidding and sliding against the rough asphalt. 

"Too tired," the drunk girl mumbles. "Nap time." She lets her legs give out underneath her, slumping towards the floor.

"No, no, no," Beca protests, grabbing her under the arms and hoisting her up. "Do it for the chicken nuggets!" she encourages, balancing her against her hip like a child.

Chloe grumbles and finally decides to use her legs again, but she pouts innocently, grumbling something that sounds a lot like "all I wanted was an ass tattoo."

Beca simply sighs and shakes her head. Chloe is absolutely unbothered by anyone's thoughts of her, occasionally bursting into song wildly and loudly, attracting the attention of quite a few strangers who stare with a mixture of amusement, annoyance and concern. Beca's not really sure why she's suddenly decided to be a good Samaritan and help Chloe - if it was anyone else she'd be calling a cab to send them off in. She has a real soft spot for Chloe. She's not sure why.

(It's probably because Chloe is undoubtedly the prettiest person she's ever seen.)

Chloe's eyes are wide and captivating, twinkling an icy steel blue under the artificial glow of the streetlights over head. When her face opens up into a smile, little crinkles form around her eyes. Beca has to resist the urge to run the pad of her thumb over them. Her heart beat seems to be increasing, her breath becoming uneven, the more she watches her. 

"Finally!" Chloe cheers with a whoop of delight as they reach the fast food restaurant, shoving the doors open hastily. The very few customers already seated throw Chloe a disapproving side ways glance. She ignores them obliviously, marching up to the cashier and sliding her five dollar bill across the stain splattered surface. She leans over it, towards the unhygienic looking guy.

"How many chicken nuggets can I get for five dollars?" she asks.

x-x-x

"I can't believe you just ate twenty chicken nuggets," Beca gapes at Chloe as she delicately wipes grease from her fingers with a napkin.

"I can't believe I only got twenty chicken nuggets for five dollars," Chloe complains.

"You're such a weirdo," Beca comments, accompanied by (of course) an eye roll. 

"Mmm, maybe," she agrees. "But you love it." Beca pulls a face, visibly repulsed by the idea of _feelings_. "So how'd it go with that Jacob guy?"

"Jesse," Beca corrects her.

"That's what I meant."

"I didn't go in the end," she admits, popping a french fry (or a McFrench McFry as Chloe calls them) into her mouth and barely chewing before she swallows it. The red head looks confused.

"How come?" she presses.

"I realised you were right, he's an asshat." Chloe giggles and oh my God Beca feels like she's on a tilt-a-whirl when the sound fills her ears and reverberates around her skull.

"Good for you, he-" the Chloe stops suddenly, her face falling. Before Beca can even ask if she's okay, she's rushing out of the McDonald's eyes bulging out of her skull, fries forgotten and discarded on the table. Beca grumbles something about 'stupid mcfucking mcnuggets' before running after her.

She finds her outside, kneeling on the curb, puking into the gutter. The stench is awful, a disturbing mixture of vodka, chicken nuggets and cheese, but Beca still dashes over. She squats down, rubbing Chloe's back soothingly with one hand, holding back her ruby locks with the other.

"Better out than in," Beca tries to comfort her with a shrug as the puking comes to an end. Chloe wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, embarrassed and disheveled. "You done?" Beca asks. Chloe nods, her face turning beetroot.

"C'mon, let's get you home." She offers her a piece of gum and a hand up. The Chloe accepts both gratefully.

Chloe's shaky knees hadn't agreed to the offer and they give out suddenly under her.

"Woah, woah, woah," the brunette utters, catching the exhausted woman before she hits the ground, grabbing her clumsily by the arms. 'What am I doing,' Beca grumbles to herself as she scoops the ginger up, one arm hooked under the back of her knees, the other splayed across the middle of her back, the notches in her spine creating indents in her forearm.

She's lighter than she looks and Beca carries her with ease, Chloe's arms wound tight around her neck, face pressed into her collarbone. Beca recalls where her drunken friend's apartment is, shamefully remembering standing outside her window with a speaker.

It's only a brief walk so she carries her the whole way, only putting her down once when Beca's skinny jeans start falling down (she's pretty sure Chloe sleeps through most of the experience).

When Chloe's towering apartment complex sweeps into view, Beca quickens her pace, practically jogging. However much she's enjoyed Chloe's presence, her arms are numb and she's positive there's a puddle of drool on the shoulder of her shirt thanks to a certain ginger.

Beca places her on the ground carefully, waiting to make sure she's able to stand properly (which she is) before letting go.

On the fourth attempt, Chloe unlocks the door.

"Welcome to the Beale residence," she laughs, tumbling through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THIS IS SO LATE IM A TERRIBLE HUMAN

 

"Yeah, this has been fun and all but I should probably go-"

"You have to tuck me in!" Chloe demands, grabbing Beca's hand and dragging her along up the hardwood stairs without a second thought.

She throws open a door to reveal a room that is so indescribably Chloe. The pink and white polka-dotted bedding has Chloe written all over it; the perfectly organised desk, the cork board absolutely covered in neon post it notes, the twinkling fairy lights draped over nearly every surface - it simply scream Chloe.

"What'd you think?" she questions, grinning as she gestures around the room, spinning on the spot.

"Hey- no spinning. I don't want you blowing chunks all over your room," Beca objects. "Your very nice room," she adds when she sees a pout tug at Chloe's bottom lip.

Chloe stands still for a minute, worrying her bottom lip with an unreadable expression painted on her face. Beca goes to open her mouth but before she can, Chloe face plants on to her double bed.

"Hey," Beca calls. "I thought you wanted me to tuck you in?"

"I do," she confirms, her voice muffled by her mattress.

"I can't tuck you in when your not under the covers," Beca points out.

"You can try." Beca rolls her eyes. She tugs the blanket out from underneath Chloe, roughly depositing her into the middle of the bed to the ginger's disliking ("Owch! Manhandle me much?").

"Sorry," she mutters. She yanks the blanket up to Chloe's chin, tucking it in gently around her, making up for the previous aggression. "Now go to sleep. Try not to miss me too much."

"Hey! Wait! No!" Chloe objects, grabbing Beca's wrist in a vice-like grip, nails digging into pale skin painfully.

"Jesus, watch it with the nails, Red," Beca complains. She apologises, loosening her grip and rubbing the reddened skin with the pads of her thumbs. "What's the matter?" 

"I _will_ miss you. You can't leave me here. Who's going to hold back my hair if I'm sick again?" she pleads. Beca doesn't look swayed to stay in the slightest, glancing towards the door. "Beca. Please don't go." Beca sighs and drags a hand down her face. 

"Fuck. Okay, fine. But only because I feel bad for you," she lies, her words slurring together with exhaustion. Awkwardly, she slumps down on the carpeted floor.

"What are you doing? Get in," Chloe laughs, patting the space next to her invitingly. "I don't bite." A pause. "Usually," she adds with a wink. The brunette huffs melodramatically. She's too tired to argue. 

"Fine, but no cuddling," she insists.

"Definitely no cuddling," Chloe lies, shuffling across the bed to make room for her new friend, grinning widely. Beca slides in, their warm bodies parallel. Chloe's feet almost stretch to the end of the bed, whilst the brunette's barely reach three quarters of the way down. Chloe fails to suppress a giggle.

Beca stiffens tensely, turning to steel when she feels the bubbly woman's arm snake across her stomach, resting on the hip bone furthest from her. She counts to three internally, forces herself to relax  She doesn't even try to resist when Chloe then curls into her side, resting her head over Beca's heart. (She swears she hears the her heartbeat increase but blames it on her own intoxication.)

Ginger curls tickle Beca's nose. She runs a hand through them, tucking them behind Chloe's ear softly - mostly to get them out of her face but also because they smell faintly of coconut. Chloe let's out a content sigh, and soon enough her breaths even out, her chest rising and falling rhythmically.

 

* * *

 

When Beca wakes up halfway through the night (morning? what time even is it?) Chloe is cradled in her arms, head resting against her chest, legs tangled together, Chloe grasping fistfuls of Beca's shirt. Beca admires the peaceful, open mouthed expression on her face.

"Too hot," Chloe mumbles against the bare skin of her collarbones before she grabs the hem of her own blouse, roughly tugging it over her head with a struggle. She lobs it out of the bed, shimmying out of her skirt and flinging that across the room as well. Beca wonders if she has any modesty whatsoever.

The ginger settles back down, pulling Beca even closer. The brunette wraps her arms back around her without hesitation, breath hitching at the feel of soft bare skin under her finger tips.

Before long she's back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Chloe wakes up, head painfully throbbing.

"Guhhhh," she groans, rolling over and burying her head under her pillow. She slithers a hand across the bed, searching for Beca. All she finds is crisp, cold bed sheets.

"Beca?" she calls, sitting up slightly. Her own loud voice makes her skull thump, the dull ache behind her pupils intensifying. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and sits up groggily.

A harshly yellow note sits on her bed side table. Chloe snatches it up, along with the glass of water and pot of advil sitting next to it. She swallows two pills and four sips of water.

The note reads in tiny, scrawled handwriting:

_Morning Red!_

_Sorry you didn't have the chance to wake up next to me. Tattoo parlour opens ridiculously early - who needs a tattoo at 8am anyway? Hope we can talk again sometime._

_Beca_

And at the bottom there's a phone number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was that! hope you enjoyed and feel free to leave a comment or follow my tumblr misguided-renegade.tumblr.com 
> 
> again, sorry for how late it is. I appreciate all of you


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another update already?? what is this madness

Chloe anxiously taps her foot against one of the legs of her stool in an erratic beat. She'd decided this morning that - for the first time in her entire life - she wouldn't be late... so now she was early. Too early for her liking. Early enough that there was plenty of time to work herself up into a flustered nervous mess, continuously stirring her tea over and over again. Her heartbeat thumps louder and louder, overpowering the hissing of steam from the espresso maker. The lights, dim and low, cast an orange glow over the vintage furniture adorning the cafe. 

'I'm so sorry I was such a mess yesterday!' she'd texted Beca the previous morning when she woke up to an empty bed and a skull shattering headache. 'Let me make it up to you over coffee?'

'That sounds great,' Beca had replied almost instantly.

'Fantastic! Oh, and Beca?'

'Yeah?'

'Thanks for not tattooing my ass.'

Chloe pours another sachet of sugar into her tea, tearing it open with her teeth. Gradually, she swirls the sweet powder. She checks her phone for probably the hundredth time. There's a message blinking - from her Mom, checking up on her. Chloe tries to hide her disappointment behind a sip of tea. The weighty door swings open again and again, drawing Chloe's hopeful gaze to it with no avail. 

She's just about to text Beca, speedily tapping in her passcode, her thumb hovering over her contact, when a shadow falls across the table.

"Hey! Have you been here long?" Beca greets her breathlessly. She slumps into the armchair across from Chloe, smiling lopsidedly. They're hidden away in the corner of the cafe, surrounded by books with worn covers and heavily-fingerprinted pages. 

"Not at all," she lies through pearly teeth. She sucks in a sharp breath. "And I really can't apologise enough for last night I-"

"Nope. Already forgiven and forgotten. Might as well have never happened." Chloe tilts her head to the side and raises one eyebrow, grin widening. It definitely did happen. Chloe's happy to forget The Incident in the gutter and the almost-tattoo but the cuddling? Falling asleep next to Beca? That will be seared into her memory until she dies. 

"Well I really appreciate it Beca. You're a big softie under all that eyeliner and leather," Chloe smirks. The brunette chuckles, shaking her head bemusedly. "I got you a coffee by the way. You don't have to have it, duh, if you're more of a tea person or something?" The energetic woman nudges the porcelain mug forwards gently.

"Definitely a coffee person. Thank you," she informs Chloe with gratitude, tipping in two sachets of sugar. Chloe pulls a disapproving face, the corners of her mouth tugging downwards.

"You have your coffee black? What kind of monster are you?" she gasps in mock horror.

"The kind who likes her caffeine. What about you?"

"Tea, always," Chloe says, lifting her drink to gloss covered lips and taking a small sip. If feels scarily like a date (not that Chloe would complain if it was one). There's a beat or two of silence before she starts talking again, nervously twisting her thumb ring. "But seriously thank you so much for looking after me that night, it was... really sweet of you," Chloe shrugs out the gratitude sheepishly, gazing into thickly lined eyes like her life depends on it.

"You know, it was pretty entertaining. You're funny when you're drunk," Beca brushes her off, a blush creeping into her pale cheeks. "Plus, it was pretty life changing seeing someone eat twenty chicken nuggets in two minutes." She smirks playfully, her cool and disaffected personality returning as her blush fades. Chloe sees through the facade, sees she's trying to put the barrier between them back up. Chloe isn't having it. She's knows there's a crackle like the ashes of a fireplace scattered between them. Beca has to feel it too, even if it is only a crush. 

"I'm a woman of many talents," Chloe nods. Beca almost smiles but then her eyeline slides left, fixated on something beyond Chloe. The hint of a smile slips away as she clings to the edge of the table, knuckles white, jaw clenched.

"Beca?" Chloe asks, leaning forwards in the high-backed leather armchair, concern etched into her features, chiseled with worry. "What's up?" Her voice is soft, hushed and anxious.

"Behind you. It's - uh - it's Jesse," she breathes. "Asshat guy. Don't look. He's totally staring at us. It's creepy." Chloe's eyes widen.

"Are you still angry at him?" she whispers. Beca nods. Chloe chews at her bottom lip for a moment, deep in consideration. "Do you think he would get jealous if I pretended to be interested in you?"

"Pretended?" Beca jokes, cocking one eyebrow and raising her hands to add quotation marks around the word.

"Yes, _pretended_ , Mrs Ego."

"I mean I guess but you really don't have to-" She stops in her tracks as Chloe's hand inches across the table to where Beca's lies, tracing a repetitive pattern on the back of her hand with an index finger. Chloe pretends not to notice Beca unsuccessfully trying to suppress the shudder that runs down her spine at the delicate contact. Chloe sinks her teeth into the inside of her cheek to stop herself grinning. When she cocks an eyebrow and Beca smirks back, she takes that as permission to continue. 

Chloe shuffles even further forward, sinking into Beca's personal space. Her breath tickles against Beca's ear, instructing her to, "pretend I said something funny." Beca obeys, laughing softly and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with her free hand. Jesse's face turn an unflattering shade of crimson and the muscle in his neck twitches, pulled taut.

Beca encouragingly nods at Chloe who consequently grabs Beca's free hand, lacing their fingers together like two puzzle pieces. Beca's hands are soft, their hands perfectly curved together, palms warm without being too sweaty. It almost feels like the hands were designed for each other. Chloe glances up, catching Beca staring studiously at her face with open childlike wonder. Chloe thinks maybe this is too far - she doesn't want to push Beca too far, send her scurrying away in fear. She can't scare her away, they've only just met and Chloe is enjoying her company way too much. But Beca seems unphased, eyes tracing the slope of her nose, the scattering of freckles, the curve of her lips - 

She's glad for the distraction when she feels someone hastily rush past their table and shove the door open, storming outside. They crack open into giggles.

"That was oddly satisfying," Beca admits.

"Glad to have been of service," Chloe says, accompanied by a dorky salute.

"You're such a weirdo."

Their hands are still intertwined across the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was kind of filler but so are most of my chapters. thanks for reading! aLSO @ the person who send me an anon on tumblr about this fic; I accidentally deleted your message but thank you so much it really made my day.
> 
> feel free to leave a comment or follow me on tumblr misguided-renegade.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beca is a mega-gay as per

Beca's phone seems to be constantly vibrating in her back pocket lately, whirring away while she's tattooing someone, purring against her leg as she drives home, buzzing on the counter while she pees. How can one girl have so much to say?

Beca can't help but blame herself for allowing this to happen, for allowing Chloe into her life and into her phone contacts. She sends her blunt, unpunctuated deadpans, while Chloe replies with long strings of emoji. Beca is ashamed that she can decode what the ginger is saying most of the time.

Most of the time.

But when Beca receives an incoherent message including a microphone, music note, martini glass and heart emoji she's at a complete loss. She stares at it blankly for several minutes. Desperately, she resorts to asking the stereotypical burly bald guy she just finished decorating with some particularly skilful ink if he knew what Chloe was trying to pictorially articulate. He sat up, glancing at the block of cheese in a heart over his bicep before returning his attention to the text. 

"Karaoke at... a martini bar? And I think this heart here means she likes you," he deciphers easily. Beca shoots him a very questioning stare. He simply shrugs.  

Beca texts back a question mark.

'It's karaoke night at Bella's and I've got the evening off, fancy a drink?' Chloe translates. How the hell had that guy... ugh. This is why she stayed away from emojis. 

'I'm not singing but I'll happily watch your drunk friends embarrass themselves,' the brunette replies.

'Meet you there at nine?'

'See you there.' She hesitates, cursing herself before adding a heart emoji. 

Beca clicks her phone off and returns to her job.

 

* * *

 

At 8:58 Beca pulls into the parking lot of Bella's, the name crudely blinking on a neon sign. She's back in her normal car; a pick up truck she's had since she impulse bought it from a friend's brother's boyfriend. It's silver exterior shines, much preferable to the horrific yellow of the previous car she drove in.

She spies Chloe, hovering outside the entrance, shivering against the cold in a button up and jeans. Beca looks down at her own outfit; black jeans and a flannel, as if she couldn't get any gayer. Is she too underdressed? Why does she care? It's not like Chloe's opinion of her matters or anything- that would be  _ridiculous._

She clambers out of her pick up, running a hand through her curled hair as she goes.

"Hey you," Beca greets Chloe as she approaches with a smirk. Chloe grins as soon as she spots Beca, eyes shining. 

"Hey! How's it going?" She doesn't wait for an answer before throwing her arms around Beca and pulling her in for a bone crushing embrace. Eventually, after a bit of protest ("Chloe this isn't necessary I literally saw you the other day"), she releases her, but not before whispering how nice Beca looks in her ear. It makes her skin crawl as warm, peppermint breath hits her ear.

"Shall we go inside then?" the Beca asks, struggling slightly to not trip over her own tongue. Chloe simply nods, grabbing her hand and dragging her inside.

The inside of the bar is your typical waterhole; a bar wrapped around the left of the room, whatever sport is popular playing on the tv, dudes sipping drinks. A disgruntled blonde frowns behind the bar, wiping vigorously at it with a checkered cloth. Most people have their attention directed towards the severely intoxicated woman belting out 'Since You've Been Gone' in the corner of the room, pretending to hit imaginary drums with her microphone. 

"Drink?" Beca offers.

"Mm, Long Island Iced Tea please," she requests as they stroll over to the bar. The blonde behind the bar waves at Chloe and gives her a tight-lipped smile. She's introduced to Beca as Aubrey.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Beca," she responds before ordering their drinks, getting herself some mixture of soda and liquor. Aubrey has a knowing smile pasted on her face and she turns to Chloe with an eyebrow raised. Beca tries not to overthink it, choosing instead to zone out, her gaze trailing over to the karaoke unfolding while Chloe chit chats with her friend. 

Beca chuckles lightly at the performance and then Chloe is tugging her towards a booth at the back of the room, drinks in hand.

"So what song are we gonna sing?" the ginger not so subtly asks between sips of her drink.

"Nope."

"Not even for me?" Chloe asks, pouting slightly and grabbing the brunette's hand across the table.

"Not for anyone."

 

* * *

 

Barely an hour has passed before  Beca is dragging Chloe up to the stage. She struggles up the stairs, off-kilter and wobbly. 

"Wait-" pauses Beca. "What song?" Her words are slurred and messy and Chloe grins at the face she pulls. Squinting, they scroll through the list of tracks, pulling emotive faces at the tiny text. Chloe cackles when she spots 'No Diggity' and she eagerly presses it.

"Noooo," Beca grumbles in fake displeasure, grabbing onto Chloe's forearm to steady herself.

The beat kicks in and the ginger throws an arm around Beca's shoulder, partly so she doesn't fall and partly to keep her close.

Chloe's voice is surprisingly good considering how much alcohol is surging through her blood stream. It makes Beca stumble on her words slightly but she soon recovers and joins in, both of their hands clasped around the microphone.

"I like the way you work it, no diggity," they both sing. Beca performs the next verse seamlessly, not even bothering to take half a glance at the lyrics displayed in front of them. Chloe's jaw falls to her shins. 

The song ends and the small crowd give a hearty applause with a few supportive cheers from behind the bar while Beca and Chloe erupt in giggles and laughs, vision blurry with tears as they run off the stage. They slip back into their booth, doubled over with laughter.

"I totally just lost all of my street cred," the brunette jokes.

"Oh no, how will you keep up your incredibly intimidating reputation!" Chloe gasps playfully, grinning. Beca scrunches her nose. "You loved it really." Beca shrugs, the corners of her mouth tugged upwards in a hidden smile.

She's not sure it's the karaoke she loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought of this chapter! or just tell me about your pets. whatever floats your boat


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not much happens and beca is extra af as per

Chapter Eight 

The dull smell of cheap beer and stale kettle chips is already detectable when Beca pulls up outside of Chloe's workplace. 

'Work is slow today,' the ginger had texted her earlier. 'Miss you.'

The brunette decided to surprise her at work. It seemed like a good idea until she is actually outside, procrastinating in her car, palms sweating.

Because of the heavy sunshine, obviously.

Not because of the way she's imagining Chloe's stunningly beautiful eyes lighting up when she sees Beca. 

She takes a deep breath, snatches up the bag of cookies she brought with her (What? She was hungry and she knew the red head had a sweet tooth) and is about to hop out the car when she comes to a halt. She hears shouting.

Loud shouting. The kind of shouting that leads to bleeding noses and broken knuckles. The kind of shouting that leads to broken hearts and rage full words. 

Silently (although she doesn't need to be, the angry yells drown out almost everything) Beca slips from her car, leaving the cookies on the dashboard, readying herself to square up if the situation presents itself. 

She's been in quite a few fist fights before, she knows how to handle herself. Plus, working with all the tough looking customers at the tattoo parlour encourages one to take self defence lessons for a few weeks. 

The screams are definitely male. Beca follows them, staying on her guard. Soon she finds the source. In the protection of shadows, to the left of the bar, between the building and the fence, is a brown haired guy. He's got his finger pointed at someone's face and he's condescendingly leaning forwards, too close for comfort, with narrow eyes shining with anger, fists clenching and unclenching.

And he's yelling at Chloe.

Chloe, who is refusing to hold eye contact with the aggressive man as he yells. Chloe, who looks on the verge of tears, teeth clenched. Chloe who is cornered, back against the brick wall. 

The aggressor pokes her in the sternum and the brunette has had enough. 

Before Beca knows what she's doing, she's sprinting over. The red head doesn't even notice her, she's too busy pleading with the man to please calm down. 

"Hey!" the brunette yells, tapping the medium sized man on the shoulder. His shoulders are wide and he looks strong, but Beca is smart and quick on her feet. He ignores her. "Hey!" she repeats, raising her voice significantly. He whirls around. "Back up, dickweed," she says, swinging a fist at his face. It connects, with a crunch, with his nose. 

"What the hell!" he exclaims, staggering backwards. Beca takes the moment of confusion to grab Chloe's arm, sharply pulling her from the trapped position she's in and moving the ginger behind her protectively. She can feel her trembling under her grip. 

The furious and confused man holds his nose as blood steadily trickles from it. He takes a step towards Beca, who tries to make herself seem bigger, standing up taller. "Back the hell up," she spits from between clenched teeth. He simply shakes his head in annoyance and huffs, storming off, grumbling something that sounds a lot like 'bunch of bitches.' Beca watches him walk to his car, get in and drive away, shooting daggers at the back of his head with her stare. When he's out of sight, the brunette turns to Chloe. 

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Are you hurt?" she asks rapidly, searching Chloe's face for bruises, red marks, scratches, anything. Thankfully, she finds nothing. Only tears.

Beca brushes them away with the pads of her thumbs, smoothing them over the red head's cheek bones. Chloe's face crumples and the tiny woman can practically hear her own heart break. She shakes her head and steps forward, slipping her arms around Beca's waist and slumping against her warm body, resting her head on her shoulder as sobs wrack through her. 

"Shhhhhh," Beca whispers against ginger curls, rubbing her back soothingly. "It's okay." She can feel a damp patch soak through her t shirt where Chloe's head lays, but she doesn't mind. "Let it out." Eventually, the red head stops crying and she looks up into Beca's eyes, wiping her own with the back of her hand, not caring how much make up she smudges. 

"Thank you," she mumbles. The brunette nods.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" It's the red head's turn to nod. Beca leads her back to the car, opening the door for her. She jumps in her side and starts driving towards nowhere. "Anywhere in particular?" Chloe shakes her head. They drive in silence. After what seems like forever, the ginger turns to face Beca, who keeps her eyes trained on the road. 

"His name's Tom. He's my ex. He got angry because I refused to talk to him and then we started fighting and then..." she trails off. 

"Has it happened before?" Chloe shakes her head. "Well, I'm always here if you need to talk." 

"Thank you. For everything." Beca turns to her and smiles sheepishly. 

"It's not a problem." There's an awkward pause before Chloe reaches across and takes Beca's hand, holding it in her own. The tiny woman prays that she can't tell how clammy her hands are. "If you want, I could totally kill him for you," she offers. Chloe laughs and God Beca has missed that sound. 

"Well I'm flattered you'd do that for me," the ginger says, hand on her heart as if Beca has just said the most thoughtful thing in the world. "But you can't bring me cookies when you're in prison." She reaches across the dashboard, grabbing the bag and chewing a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie slowly.

"That's a very good point, I should of thought of that earlier," the brunette sarcastically deadpans, rolling her eyes melodramatically. "I'm sorry I punched your boyfriend-"

"Ex-boyfriend."

"-in the face," Beca apologises. "Although he totally deserved it." Chloe giggles, fixing her make-up as best she can with her phone's front facing camera and a tissue. The brunette turns up the radio to fill the silence. 

They drive for hours, singing and laughing the day away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> criticism is very much welcome! if u want some extra gay on your dash, my tumblr is www.misguided-renegade.tumblr.com


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